A Matter of Perspective
by Red Lioness
Summary: CHACK! The sequel to 'Out for an Airing' chase and Jack's relationship comes out into the open.
1. Chapter 1

Jack Spicer never thought he'd be saying this, but his life was pretty awesome. It had been a little over a month since Chase had placed the dragon ring on his finger and promised Jack forever. A week after the first attempted date, they went out again and Jack had managed to snag a rapist for Chase to murder.

It hadn't been that bad, but Jack would have to remember to plug his ears and breathe through his mouth the next time. And wear something that didn't hold bloodstains.

After Chase was done splattering the human across the pavement in every direction, the dragon lord had been so riled up that they'd skipped dinner and teleported straight home for a night of passionate sex.

The next week had been-Jack's eyes rolled up and he moaned in the back of his throat- _sushi night_. It was- wow – oh god – just incredible. The albino youth swore he'd come five times. Silk cords and ball gags and soy sauce, _oh my._

Flying his experimental jet back home, Jack had to shift quickly as he got half a stock just thinking about it.

Landing a jet with one hand was tricky, so Spicer forced his thoughts away from sliced ginger and seaweed. He'd never smell wasabi again without popping a boner.

One week ago they'd gone out rapist hunting in Miami again and had run into none other than Dry Clean Only and Phooka. Apparently the blonde's name was Matty and he now had Phooka under his thrall.

The kelpie had been hotly embarrassed, partly because he was enjoying being Matty's boyfriend, but mostly because of the way Chase pointed at him and howled with laughter for ten minutes straight. In spite of that, the four had hung out together for a few hours.

Jack and Matty had danced and enticed two men away from the club for what they called a 'Sugar and Spice Party'. The fresh young teens, one gothy in leather and the other irresistibly cute in pure white, lured their newfound companions to a secluded beach. A few minutes later, Jack and Matty returned to the club alone. About twenty minutes later, Phooka and Chase joined them; Phooka looking like he'd enjoyed a good meal and Chase looking like he'd just enjoyed himself.

Jack hated to admit it, but Matty was like a girlfriend he could talk shop with.

What about the vicious monster _you're _dating?

Oh really? Yours does that, too?

They're all the same, those inhuman deities. And he always hogs the covers.

Tell me about it. Hey, how far does yours let you go when you're being rape bait? Mine barely lets me get touched and then it takes _forever_ to convince a slime ball to come with you!

Oh, just spill some vodka on your shirt and reel around like you're _really _drunk. That works every time.

The girlfriend vibe solidified when Matty saw Jack's ring. The blonde had let out a squeal that could shatter glass and started peppering Jack with questions about the wedding.

By this time, Chase and Phooka had returned. Jack hadn't known what to say. He stammered something about not knowing if they were going to have a ceremony when Chase piped up.

"Would it please you?"

Spicer was starting to recognize this phrase as being code for: I want to spoil you, but I'm way too cool to do it spontaneously so I'm pretending to do it for amusement.

All he had to do was say yes and Chase would cave.

Jack had said yes.

So now the goth genius was officially engaged to the greatest evil mastermind of all time, he had a honkin' big rock to prove it, and to top it all off, he had just beat Raimundo in a Showdown and all he had to do was tell the Brazilian he had a fabulous ass.

Watching the Dragon of the Wind recoil in horror and flee screaming like a girl had just made Jack's day. Anything that happened after this was icing on the cake.

Homophobes were fun.

Oh, and Matty had sent him pictures he had taken that night! Jack had looked through a few of them on the computer, but then the Shen-Gong-Wu alert had gone off. Jack had just hit 'print all' and left them to it. They should be done by now, though.

Jack carefully piloted the jet in for a vertical landing through his secret escape hatch. Popping open the cockpit, the albino youth gathered his new wu and climbed down.

All right; all he had to do was lock the new wu away, grab some clean clothes, pick up the pictures and then he'd head back to Chase's place. He practically lived there now, anyway.

Spicer's train of thought quickly derailed when he saw the slender form of a woman with long, blonde hair sitting at his work desk, crying.

"Mom?" Jack asked. "I thought you weren't supposed to be back from India until the weekend. Hey, what's the matter?"

Mrs. Spicer held up a photograph.

Jack felt a blush creep across his face.

"Oh."

Immortalized in an 8 x 10 glossy was a shot of Jack Spicer, Evil Boy Genius, dressed up like first prize at a fetish party, sitting on the lap of Chase Young, Eternal Master of Darkness, dressed like an extremely sensual fashion plate.

They were kissing.

Well, no, that wasn't right, Jack reflected, floundering around for something to say. Kissing could be innocent. In the photo, Jack and Chase were _Frenching_. You could see their tongues intertwined from three feet away.

Speaking of things you could see, Jack had slipped his hand inside Chase's loosely buttoned shirt and was fondling the dragon lord's nipple. Chase had one hand on the inside of Spicer's thigh; he could have been sliding it up or down; Jack knew from memory it was going up. He supposed he should have felt lucky Matty hadn't snapped the shot thirty seconds later.

Jack didn't feel very lucky at the moment, particularly because he realized with a start that not only did this little snippet of recent history illustrate his sexual preferences in real world color to _his mother_, but his photograph-self was also sporting a blatantly obvious hard on.

_To his mother_.

"Sssssoooooo . . . . . . . how was India?"

* * *

Jack had thought it couldn't get worse. He was oh so wrong. When his mom insisted on going through each and every picture in the stack, seeing each one before Jack even got a chance to, it got worse. When his dad got home, apparently called in by his hysterical mother, things definitely got worse.

In a sort of numb shock, Jack wondered what that phone call had been like.

'Jonathon, oh my God, our baby boy kisses men! Come home so we can both freak out at him!'

Still in the same floating sense of detachment, Jack pulled the stack of pictures towards himself and started to look through them.

Matty was a good photographer; he only had some tiny little digital camera, but he managed to capture a lot of good clear shots despite the dim lights of the club and the beach.

Jack stopped at one particular photograph.

Chase and Jack had paused leaving the club. The light of the doorway was just barely visible behind Jack, giving just enough illumination to add a highlight to his tight black clothes. The goth teen's pale skin was glowing under the flash; it was almost looked overexposed. It gave Jack a faint halo.

Chase, on the other hand, was away from the light. His black hair and dark clothes blended seamlessly into the darkness. Only his face and the flashes of skin at his throat, hands, and stomach stood out clearly.

The Evil Mastermind and deadly Tai Chi Master, who could kill with a touch, had slipped his arm around Jack's waist and leaned in to kiss the youth tenderly on the temple. What really struck Jack was how happy Chase looked.

For his part, Jack was grinning broadly. He had been caught by surprise by the temple-kiss, but loved every minute of it and it showed.

'I look so happy.' Jack thought. 'We both do. Matty was saying all night how we looked so in love. Why are my parents so angry about this?'

"I'll have to frame this one," Jack muttered aloud.

"What did you just say?!" His father snapped. He had been yelling at Jack for the last ten minutes, but the goth genius had stopped listening after the first thirty seconds.

"I'll . . . frame this one." Jack repeated, looking up.

His father barely glanced at the picture in his son's hands before wrenching his face away as if it were hard-core gay porn. Jack felt a spark of anger start somewhere deep inside.

"And to think; I was worried you were turning out to be some anti-social loner. Now it turns out you've been sleeping around with strange men!" Jonathon Spicer spat, shuddering.

"'Sleeping around'?" Jack repeated. The spark grew to a flame. "I'm not a whore! I'm only ever with Chase!"

"After all we've done for you, Jackie; _this_ is how you repay us?" His mother whimpered, reentering with a cup of coffee in her hand. Jack was sure it was heavily spiked with something.

"Well, I can't help who I love." The albino teen said apologetically.

"Love? _Love_?" Cecilia Spicer repeated in disbelief, gesturing to the scattered pictures on Jack's desk. "Do you think this is what love looks like?"

Jack studied the photo in his hands.

Happy Jack, delighted with the affection he was receiving. Happy Chase, pleased beyond all measure at the mate he had chosen.

"Well, yeah." Jack answered honestly.

Both of his parents stared as if he'd said: 'What's so bad about genocide?' Jack flipped the picture around, showing what he could practically see leaping off of the page.

"Don't you see how happy we are? I'm in a steady, monogamous relationship with someone I love very much! What's wrong with that? I love Chase!" Jack stabbed a finger at the picture. "We love each other! Can't you see that?!"

Jack's dad turned away, putting one hand over his eyes. But his mom saw. Not necessarily what Jack wanted her to see, but she saw. One well-manicured hand shot out and grabbed Jack by the wrist of his pointing hand.

His left hand.

The one with the big honkin' rock on it.

For several long minutes, Cecilia just stared.

"Tell me that's not an engagement ring." Jonathon begged, looking out from between his fingers.

"Ah . . . I -I was going to tell you before the wedding." Jack lied, licking his lips nervously.

Jack's father put both hands on his head. For a minute Jack thought he was crying. His mom had yet to react to anything, but she still stared at his ring with an intensity that was almost frightening.

"Ming dynasty . . ." She murmured.

"What?" Jack asked.

Cecilia's fingers flew to the ring, but Jack clenched his fist and kept it anchored securely.

It wouldn't come off. That was what Chase had meant when he said the ring would never leave Jack's finger; it could not be physically removed from his digit. Jack had found that out the first time he tried to bathe after Chase had proposed. It was a magic ring, after all. But that didn't mean his mom couldn't tear his finger up trying to yank it off.

"That _has_ to be a reproduction! The diamond alone is worth a mint!" She cried, trying to wiggle the dragon ring around. "Let me see the maker's mark!"

"No! Mom, stop it! Ow!"

The mother and son scuffled half-heartedly. Cecilia Spicer was a well-known dealer in Asian antiquities; Jack should have known she'd spot the ring for the incredibly rare thing it was.

"A Ming dynasty ring this size went at Christie's for two million U.S. Dollars last year and it wasn't half this well-preserved! And that one didn't have any gemstones!"

"Yeah, Chase is filthy stinking rich; does that make it _better_?" Jack asked scathingly.

Cecilia ignored the sarcasm, shoving her untouched coffee cup into Jack's other hand. The albino youth had to drop his picture to keep it from getting coffee slopped all over it.

"There's places that can help." Jonathon said quietly.

"Help what?" Jack asked over his mother's head.

Cecilia had given up trying to pull the ring off and had produced a jeweller's glass from nowhere, studying the ring in minute detail. Jack sighed, taking a swallow of her untouched coffee. No sense in letting caffeine go to waste.

"They help . . . boys like you with your . . . problem." Mr. Spicer said, half to himself.

"Oh, y'mean like FFLAG?" Jack asked, downing more coffee.

The emotional turmoil of the last couple of hours had left him feeling tired. He'd like a nice cuddle-nap on Chase's chest, but it looked like he was going to get a cup of coffee. It did taste kind of odd, though; his mom had probably ground some of her anti-depressants into it instead of just liquor. Jack wasn't going to pass up the Prozac.

"FFLAG?"

"Yeah; Friends and Family of Lesbians and Gays? It's like a support group."

"For _us_?" Jonathon seemed taken aback that Jack would suggest that his parents were the ones that would have to adjust.

"Yeah; what were you talking about? Ow! Mom, easy with the nails!"

"Four million if it's a penny!" Mrs. Spicer declared. "Maybe we should rethink this, Jonathon."

"Way to be a gold digger, Mom." Jack snorted, sucking down more coffee.

"If he can waste a four million dollar ring on Jack, what other resources does he have?" Cecilia asked, spreading her hands. "It's something to think about."

"They can't get _married_. Not legally!" Jonathon snapped at the same time Jack yelled:

"_Waste_ a ring on me?"

"And no heirs! Don't forget about that!"

"I hate kids anyway!" Jack declared.

Snorting at the stupidity of it all, Jack drained the last of the coffee. This was completely stupid: he was gay. He was in love with Chase Young and Chase Young was in love with him. None of that was going to change, so why was he wasting breath arguing about it?

Shaking his head slightly, Jack took another look at his ring. Four million, huh? And it would bind him and Chase for all eternity and by Chase's claim, protect him from harm. Jack hadn't seen the last put to the test, but he had won a Showdown without getting totally pummelled. That was something. That was . . . . Jack shook his head again, feeling dizzy. His vision suddenly swam.

"Geez, Mom," he slurred, feeling drunk. "What'dya put in thish coffee?"

Jack felt his knees buckle, but they seemed miles away. He tried to put one hand on his desk to steady himself, but his hand landed on the pile of photographs and skidded as the pictures went flying. The albino youth pitched forward, slamming his head on the corner of his work desk with enough force to shatter one lens of his goggles. The force of the impact spun him around. Jack landed face up on the floor of his lab, surrounded by photographs of himself and his lover.

Mr. and Mrs. Spicer watched this dispassionately.

"Lightweight." Mrs. Spicer muttered.

"So, do you think it would work?" Jonathon asked, as if his only son hadn't just received a savage blow to the head. "If his boyfriend is as rich as he claims, he would have the means to stop us."

Cecilia considered this for a moment, eyeing her unconscious child.

"The boyfriend isn't here _now_."

* * *

As luck would have it, it was the first time in hours that Chase Young _hadn't_ been watching Jack's every move. Jack had headed back to his own house to see to his creations and get fresh clothing. Then the Shen-Gong-Wu had revealed itself and Jack had left to battle the monks for it.

Chase had watched all of this with his Eye Spy Orb, chuckling as Jack sang and danced around his house when he believed himself alone, quietly cheering when Jack fought his Showdown, and fighting back a hot stab of jealousy when Spicer appeared to be flirting with the Xiaolin Dragon of the Wind.

Raimundo's subsequent reaction to this, followed by Jack's wicked laughter had assured Chase that the whole performance was designed to unnerve the young leader. It had worked splendidly, too.

Chase had almost gone to train when Jack was flying home, but the youth kept shifting and groaning in his seat. At one point he had even reached down the front of his trousers and adjusted himself, which prompted Chase to do the same. The dragon lord had wondered if he were going to be privy to some hot self-pleasure and the voyeur in him cheered, but then Jack's parents had been home.

A tedious argument followed and Chase had finally left his lover be and moved on to more interesting pastimes.

Like picking out Jack's new wardrobe.

As cute as his beloved could be in his ragged coat and clunky boots, Jack Spicer would soon be his husband and the prince of Chase Young's black heart. It was time he dressed as such. Jack had adjusted quite well to Chase dressing him in sensual outfits when they went out on their dates, now they would see how well he took being dressed regally.

Chase Young stroked his hands over a bolt of exquisite black brocade with geometric accents of gold and red and thought how well it would bring out Jack's eyes.


	2. chapter 2

Jack woke up with a throbbing headache, a dry mouth and an aching hand.

His first thought was: 'That's weird. I don't remember falling asleep.'

His second thought was: 'Holy shit, my hand hurts.'

His third thought was: 'This isn't my/Chase's bedroom. Where the hell am I?'

Jack rolled out of bed and looked around the strange room. It was small, sparsely decorated with cheap wooden furniture. A few generic Christian icons were hung or placed about the room.

Frowning, Jack looked at his left hand. No wonder it hurt; he had a metal finger-cast strapped to his left ring-finger. The dragon ring Chase had given him was mashed underneath the brace. The skin around the antique silver was torn and swollen.

"What the hell?" Jack muttered.

It looked like someone had tried to take his ring, but the enchanted bit of jewelry had put up a fight. Spicer was just lucky the attempted thieves didn't know how much it was worth or they probably would have cut _off_ his finger to get it.

Shaking his pained hand fretfully, the albino teen stood up from the narrow bed. His eyes fell on a bottle of water sitting on a small table beneath a window. Without a thought, Jack crossed the room and popped the top off, pouring the cool liquid down his parched throat. In the process, he looked out of the window.

For a minute, he could only stare. The scenery outside of the window was quaint, picturesque, a paradise of nature that most people would kill to see. Jack was not one of those people. The tech wizard stared at the mist-shrouded pine forest and flat, placid lake waters like the untouched beauty was going to lunge through the window and get him.

"JackBots, I don't think I'm in China anymore," Spicer muttered.

"No, Jack. You're not in lonely, isolated China anymore!" A cheerful voice announced. Jack whirled, his heart in his throat.

Standing in the now-open doorway was a man in his late middle age. Fair hair had greyed out to a drab beige that blended in with his complexion in a way though should have been boring, but ended up looking creepy. Understanding hazel eyes smiled at Jack over a pair of gold wire-rimmed spectacles. It shouldn't have been possible for the smile to be in the man's eyes and not his mouth, but the gum-baring grin on the man's face resembled a death rictus. His clothes were a simple blue polo shirt and khaki pants.

"Who the hell are you?!" Jack demanded. "Where the hell am I and what the **fuck** happened to my hand?!"

The smile, or whatever it was, left the stranger's face.

"Now Jack, I'm going to have to ask you to watch your language while you're here. I'm Pastor Stephen Dallas, but I want you to call me Steve." The man's eyes remained so understanding. "I know you're very confused right now-"

"Damn right I'm confused!"

"But that's why you're here, Jack."

"I'm . . . what? I'm here to be confused?" The albino teen blinked.

"No, no. You're here _because_ you're confused."

Jack paused and tried to slow down his thinking process to match Steve's.

"Listen; I was just fine back home. I was doing better than fine, actually; I was great. All of a sudden I wake up in some strange room in a different country with some guy who talks in circles and to top it all off, someone tried to steal my ring." Jack held up his left hand. "And you think I was confused at home?!"

Steve's eyes locked onto Jack's hand and stayed there.

"Well yes, Jack, I do. And the proof of your confusion is that ring."

"What do you mean?" He asked, fingering the exposed part of the warm metal.

"Well, son, your parents tell me your boyfriend gave you that ring."

"Yeah," Jack said, blushing. He still couldn't resist acting like a blushing schoolgirl when someone mentioned his relationship with Chase.

"I'm sure you've noticed that's your wedding ring finger."

Jack grinned like an idiot, his blush deepening in intensity.

"Yeah!"

"Jack, your _male lover_ gave you an engagement ring."

Jack couldn't help it; he giggled.

"I know! The first time he said I'd stay by his side forever I was so happy I cried!" Spicer threw his arms around himself, flinching when his finger was strained. "I still get goosebumps!"

"Jack. You are a man. You are engaged to another man. Don't you see anything wrong with that?" Steve prompted.

Jack Spicer considered the question carefully, fingering his ring.

"Well . . ."

"Yes?"

"It might complicate the wedding some." Jack said finally. "They always organize those things by 'bride's side' and 'groom's side' and we'll have to do it by 'groom's side' and 'other groom's side'. I mean, it probably won't be a very orthodox ceremony _anyway_, but should I get walked down the aisle or should we do it together or what? And if I get walked down the aisle, who's going to give me away? I mean, my dad still wants to kill me for being gay, I guess I could ask Wuya; she's kind of responsible for getting me into the whole Heylin circle-" The goth teen continued, oblivious to the way Steve put his face in his hands. "Should I even invite my parents? Like I said, Dad wants me dead, and I'm not sure I could just invite Mom. She was crying her eyes out when she found those pictures of me and Chase anyway. And then there's what to wear-"

"Jack!"

"Yeah?"

"Marriage is a holy institution reserved for a man and a woman. Any sort of sexual relationship between two men is unnatural, disgusting, and sinful." Steve said flatly.

Jack gave him a look that would have sent the average kicked puppy slinking back to it's kennel in defeat.

"That's a horrible thing to say to a soon-to-be bride! I mean, groom!" Jack wailed.

"This is where your confusion comes from. I'm sure I know how it happened: you thought you'd never be popular with girls, then this older man who treated you with respect, who listened to you, who told you you were attractive came into your life. And then he began the sexual overtures? Before you knew was what going on, he was making you the submissive partner in his sodomy, even though I'm sure you didn't really want that. And now that he has you broken in, he wants to bind you to him through fraudulent marriage. I'm sure now he's telling you no one else will ever want you and his respect and affection has dropped off sharply. Isn't that right?"

Jack stared.

He thought about his history with Chase Young; of the verbal abuse and half-hearted attempts on his life in the early days, then to _Jack's_ offer of physical pleasure, and now Chase's flat out pampering and spoiling.

"Wow. That's about as wrong as it's possible to be."

"We're going to help you, Jack." Steve continued as if he hadn't spoken. "Here at Camp Purity, we'll cure your sickness through faith and the power of prayer."

Jack stared, a cold knot forming in his stomach.

"But the first step in getting better is admitting that you're sick."

Spicer's right hand curled around his ring protectively. The move didn't go unnoticed.

"I am sorry about your finger, Jack, but Brother Jason was determined to get that ring off. Once you're cured, I'm sure you'll relish throwing that ring back into your boyfriend's face and telling him: I've cured my homosexuality and you can, too!"

"Y-You _broke_ my finger trying to take my ring off?"

"Again, I'm sorry about that, but it will be worth it when you're cured!"

"'Cured'?! I don't want to be cured! You can't cure 'gay'! My parents shipped me off to some anti-gay Christian cult camp?! I don't even believe in God!"

Jack pushed past the minister and bolted down the hall.

Steve sighed and turned to an intercom outside of Jack's door.

"Brother Jason, we have a runner."

* * *

Chase Young was ready to commit murder. The eternal evil lord had lost himself in picking out clothing for Jack for hours, imagining how a sliver of white flesh would peek coyly out of a waistband, or how crimson hair would fan out across a green brocade. He had been quite beside himself with anticipation of Jack's return, only to realize that the goth genius should have returned to the mountain keep by now.

Irritated, but unwilling to go drag Jack back so that they could play dress-up, Chase had gone through his training routine, then calmed himself with meditation. The monks attempted to penetrate his castle for some inane reason or another and Chase had amused himself with tormenting Omi for a while.

By the time Chase came to the conclusion that the only reason Jack wouldn't be back in his arms by now was that something was _wrong_, the youth had been out of his keeping for nearly twenty-four hours.

Not bothering with the Eye Spy Orb, Chase teleported directly into Jack's evil lair. Instantly he knew something was terribly wrong. The jet Spicer had flown to the Showdown was still parked in the middle of the Lair, the canopy to the cockpit open wide. Jack was almost neurotic about keeping everything in it's place; he wouldn't leave the vehicle sitting out in the open for nearly a day. Chase's suspicions were confirmed when he saw the Monkey Staff, the Shroud of Shadows, and the Glasses of Bi Shi sitting unguarded on Jack's main work desk. There were other things on the desk as well; Chase frowned as he saw the photographs scattered across the desk and on the floor. The dragon lord stopped just as his foot was descending towards one. He crouched down to inspect the picture.

Chase's eyebrows rose as he took in the image of himself and Jack wrapped in a tender embrace, his lips brushing the albino youth's temple. The ancient warrior studied the photographs on the floor, noting all were of himself and Jack. The poses ranged from 'borderline pornographic' to 'we're bored, but we still need to touch each other'.

Chase Young froze. Something else on the floor caught his eye. The dragon lord crawled forward a few paces to pick up the item.

It was a shard of glass.

More importantly, it was a shard of yellow glass with an orange streak through it.

Jack's goggles.

Looking up as the realization slowly sank in, Chase's eyes came to rest on a streak of blood along the side of Jack's work desk

The dragon lord fought back an overwhelming urge to make something die. His beloved had been taken by force: that much was readily apparent. However, Chase still didn't know who had done the awful deed or where they had taken Jack, or exactly how many pieces he should rip them into over how many hours.

Straightening, Chase unfastened the arm guard around his left arm. He pulled his black glove free and pushed it up until a ring much like Jack's was uncovered on his left ring finger. While it did resemble the albino youth's ring in design, the band was much thinner and sleeker. The metal was black, with highlights of antique silver. Instead of a diamond for the dragon's mystic pearl, a pitch black stone so highly polished it looked liquid gleamed eerily in the low light of the lair. The black dragon ring's eyes were obsidian.

Chase Young stared at the bit of jewelry for a moment, as if confused.

"Why do you do nothing?!" He finally demanded of the decoration. "Your mate is gone! You must find him!"

Those sensitive to such things would have felt a pressure as the ring struggled to comply. Then there was nothing.

"Holiness . . . ." Chase growled the word as though it left a bad taste in his mouth. "They block the spell with the blessings of a god."

That was the problem with being evil: it left you susceptible to the most inane things, simply because they were good.

Luckily, Chase knew of someone who existed outside of such distinctions as good and evil. Someone who could be forced to comply whether they liked it or not.

* * *

"Jack?! Jack! Now, seriously, I'm afraid you can't leave the building!" Steve called, hurrying after the pale teenager. The pastor didn't hurry too quickly; the camp had a state of the art security system. These kids were so confused; they just needed to be shown the way. Steve frowned as he came upon the door.

The wide open door.

The wide open door with the security panel that was broken and hot wired.

"Oh no! Oh no, Brother Jason!" Steve rushed to the next intercom, which was at the end of the hall. "Brother Jason, the new boy is out of the building! He hot wired the keypad somehow and now he's loose! . . . What do you mean, not another one?"

* * *

Chase Young stood before the door of a drab suburbanite house just beginning to fall into disrepair. He kept his urge to smash the door in and shake the inhabitants by their throats carefully concealed. Unfortunately, the services he sought couldn't be derived by brute force; he would have to feign politeness.

Eventually the door was opened by a bedraggled Phooka. The carnivorous fairy was wearing only a pair of boxer briefs and his dark hair was bunched up in a kinky mass of curls.

"Chase?" He groaned, rubbing sleep from his eyes. "Do you have any idea what time it is?"

"Locally, it is ten o'clock in the morning." The dragon lord answered coolly. His disapproval was evident.

"Matty and I didn't get home until seven. What do you want?" Phooka answered after a moment. His hand moved from his eyes to his hair and started scratching the spot where his horns budded when he changed shape.

"Someone has taken my Jack. I require your assistance in finding him." Chase announced, hating to admit his helplessness.

Phooka stopped scratching and blinked at Chase for a moment. Then, as fairies are wont to do, the kelpie abruptly lost interest. The door shut firmly in Chase Young's face.

Chase had been expecting this. He had a further plan of action, but the knowledge that Phooka was heading back to bed to snuggle down with _his_ sweet little boy blew all rational thought out of the window.

The fairy turned as the door was ripped off of it's hinges.

"Don't do that! Matty's mother will throw a fit!" Phooka cried.

Chase tossed the wreckage of the door aside and advanced on the elf, a vicious snarl on his face.

"I care nothing for Matty or his mother, nor do I care anything for you. The one I care for has been taken from me and hidden under the blessings of a god. That means I require someone who has the power to find him, yet is not bound by definitions of good and evil. Someone who simply _is_." Chase stopped with his own nose an inch from Phooka's.

To the kelpie's credit, Phooka didn't retreat from the threatening stalk. His green eyes met Chase's gold ones head on.

"Someone like a Pagan manifestation of the perils of the element of water?" The water goblin suggested.

"Someone like that." Chase confirmed.

"Mmmm. You've clearly explained why you need me, Chase Young. Now why exactly should I help you? The last time we crossed paths as free men, I ended up bound in iron from chest to knees and ended up being _owned_ by a whimpering little boy who can't get enough of the Greek love."

For the immortal life of him, Chase couldn't help the smug smirk that twisted across his face.

"Young Matthias is too much for you? Or do you simply miss being the one sinking your teeth into the bedclothes?"

"Good luck finding your toy, Chase!" Phooka spat, whirling away.

He nearly ran into Matty, who had just come out of a hallway that presumably led to the bedrooms. The fair youth only wore a loose pair of pajama pants decorated with what appeared to be a talking kitchen sponge.

"What's going on?" He asked.

"Nothing. Let's go back to bed." Phooka snapped, attempting to usher his mortal lover back the way he had come.

"Good Morning, Matthias." Chase said politely.

"What's Chase doing here? Where's Jack? What happened to the door?"

"Jack is stolen from me. I came to Phooka for aid, but he refuses to assist me. Now my love is gone." Chase answered, taking great relish in the look of pure hatred the kelpie shot him. "I apologize for the door."

"What?" Matty asked.

Phooka cringed. One of Chase's eyebrows rose at the venom in the mortal youth's voice. Matty's blue eyes went cold as he glared up at his captive fairy.

"Jack is my _friend_. Who the hell else am I gonna talk to about having an immortal monster as a boyfriend?! He said I could be in the wedding!" Matty yelled into Phooka's face. "If you don't help Chase find him, I am going to drive iron nails into your horn!"

A second eyebrow joined the first. Chase had come with the idea of telling the teen a few tricks to punish Phooka. He hadn't expected the mincing boy who always put him in mind of a cocker spaniel to have already thought up a few far more vicious than what Chase was willing to share.

From the look on the kelpie's face, he had been on the hard end of Matty's temper before and hadn't enjoyed the trip.

"All right, all right! I'll get a scrying spell ready!" Phooka cried, holding up his hands. "But I'm not fixing the damn door!"

The fairy stomped back to the bedroom, muttering darkly about no sleep, pissy dragon lords, and iron.

* * *

Jack hated nature. Well, that wasn't entirely true. He liked nature provided it was mostly bare and covered in snow. Jack had always loved winter; the bite of frost and snow seemed to make everything so much more orderly than the random chaos that wildlife seemed to operate on.

There wasn't a hint of frost or snow anywhere, but there were plenty of mud, bugs, and stink. Jack ran out of the compound and wriggled under a chain link fence. Now he was running, but he had no idea where. He didn't even know where he was! Given the fact that the pastor was American, he'd hazard a guess that he was in the U.S. But that was as far as he would go.

Spicer slowed his headlong flight into the forest. He found a dusty trail and began to follow that.

How had his parents managed to ship him half-way around the world without Chase noticing? Wasn't the ring supposed to keep him out of harm's way? Grimacing, Jack picked at the tape binding the cast to his finger. Maybe the preacher had put some kinda exorcism on it. How would that work? Would Christian blessings even work against Chase's magic?

A familiar prickle ran up the back of Jack's neck.

The albino youth stopped walking abruptly. He recognized this feeling mostly by it's absence: it was the feeling of the supernatural. Jack was used to being surrounded by it, cradled in it when he was with Chase. Before that it had been Wuya constantly hanging over his shoulder. These days it only struck him as how boring and mundane the world was when he was parted from his supernatural lifestyle.

But Jack felt that feeling now, which meant things were about to get weird. Maybe even wyrd.

There was something strange happening to the path in front Jack. What appeared to be a tiny, contained dust devil spun and smoked in the middle of the path about four feet in front of him. Jack frowned, peering at the phenomenon. It didn't actually look like a dust devil; it looked like something was kicking up the dust on the path, but there was nothing there to see.

Jack was just raising his foot to look closer when a voice rang out through the trees.

"If you take another step forward, you're going to die."


	3. Chapter 3

Jack Spicer's muscles tensed for flight. Voices ringing out of nowhere promising death were generally considered a bad thing. 

"Don't say I didn't warn ya," the voice drawled a tad sadly.

Jack hesitated.

It was a girl's voice. She sounded young, probably around his age. Her voice was a little on the deep side for a girl, and touched with a Southern accent. While his talent for linguistics pointed out that the girl's accent held a different flavor from what Jack was used to hearing from Clay Bailey, what Jack didn't hear was a threat.

It was more a tone of resigned horror, like someone watching an idiot trying to look down a gas pipe with a lighter in one hand.

Jack eyed the spinning dust devil in front of him.

"One step forward and I die?" He called.

"Yep." The strange girl confirmed. Her voice was coming from behind him; she must be farther back on the trail.

"Can I take a step backwards?" The albino youth asked.

"Oh sure. In fact, I wish you would. Blood's a bitch to get out of straw an' I like this hat."

Considering the girl was at least twenty feet behind him, this did not help to calm Jack down. Whimpering, the tech wizard shot backwards, barely getting ten feet before tripping to sprawl, yowling, across the trail.

"Geez, shut up! They don't chase!" The girl growled, closing the distance between them.

Jack looked up at his rescuer. Then he gave an exasperated sigh.

In a certain type of narrative, the newcomer would have been a strong, confident beauty that would move Jack's heart, test his commitment to homosexuality and his love for Chase and in general infuriate and/or disgust all witnesses to the debacle.

Luckily for all parties involved, the powers overseeing Jack Spicer's life weren't so creatively bankrupt as that.

The girl in the woods was perfectly ordinary. She had black hair that was pretty long, caught up in two braids that hung down over each shoulder reaching nearly to her waist. Her eyes were plain old brown. She was . . . well, not unattractive, but her jaw was a little too square and there was a bit too much jawbone for her to qualify as pretty. As Jack climbed to his feet, he noticed she was about his height, again, a little tall for a girl. In fact, she looked very much like some sort of Native American warrior princess, not so much pretty as handsome.

He also noticed with a grimace of distaste, she had on a cowboy hat of loosely woven straw. She had cowboy boots in the same pale buttermilk shade as the hat, blue jeans and . . . God, a T-shirt with a picture of a tractor printed on it. 'Keepin' it Rural' bragged the garment in yellow letters.

Jack fought back the urge to gag.

"You an escapee from Camp Brainwash?" The girl asked.

"Yeah. How'd you know?" Jack asked.

The girl gave him a long calculating look. Jack felt his own distaste for her personal style mirrored in that look.

"Lucky guess."

Jack gave her a nasty look and glanced back at the thing. It remained where he had first seen it.

"Should we be hanging around?" He asked.

"It don't matter; they rely on prey to walk right into them. They can't run very fast. But yeah let's get out of here before Brother Jason gets his ass in gear an' comes after us." The girl started hunting around for a rock.

"You know about Brother Jason? You're from Camp Brainwash, too!"

The girl grunted, finally locating a rock that probably weighed about five pounds.

"I got sent there, but I seriously don't belong."

"Why's that? Because most men think lesbians are hot?" Jack sneered, honestly sickened by the double standard.

"Nope; I ain't gay."

This being said, the dark skinned stranger hurled the rock at the tiny whirlwind. The rock skipped off into the forest, but a hair-raising shriek echoed through the trees and something came into view above the whirlwind.

A dark, hairy creature collapsed on the path and looked at the two teenagers. Jack felt that urge to gag rising again. The thing had a vaguely ape-like face, with a round, toothless mouth. A long vivid pink tongue hung out of the mouth loosely. The creature picked itself up onto two enormous arms that thickened towards the end, resembling baseball bats. The heavily muscled upper body tapered down to a single rear leg, ending in a round hoof.

Jack realized the thing had been spinning around in the middle of the path so fast it had become invisible. If he had walked into those thick arms . . . splat city. The scientist in him insisted that was impossible, but Jack was used to the impossible. He took in stride.

The creature lurched towards them, bawling fiercely.

"Shoo! G'on, get outta here!" The strange girl bellowed, kicking dirt at the impossible creature. This seemed to unnerve the thing. It turned and loped off into the woods.

"What. The fuck. Was that?" Jack inquired calmly.

"A whirling wumpus. There ain't too many of them around these days. As long as you keep your wits about you, they're fairly harmless."

"A whirling wumpus? I've studied world mythology and I've never . . ."

"You study your Tall Tales, Snowflake?"

"The name's Jack! Jack Spicer!" Jack snarled fiercely. "Not Snowflake, _Pocahontas_!"

"An' my name's Johnny Betty Pecos! Not Pocahontas! I ain't an Indian!"

Jack paused, taking in the tan skin, long black braids, strong jaw and Roman nose.

"Not an Indian, riiiiiiiight." Then something else caught his ear. "'Johnny Betty'?! That's your name?! I think I'd prefer Pocahontas!"

Jack's hysterical laughter was cut off sharply as Johnny Betty seized him by the throat and lifted him easily over her head.

"Johnny Betty _Pecos_." She repeated in an ice cold tone. "As in _Pecos_ Bill? Cowboy a' Texas legend raised by coyotes, rode a black tornado, a mountain lion, an' the orneriest horse ever lived? Used a six foot rattler as a bullwhip, taught th' coyotes how t' howl, an' strangely enough, invented peanut brittle?"

"S-sounds vaguely familiar," Jack croaked.

"Well, that was my great-grandpa. An' some a' his talents run in th' family." Johnny Betty flexed her arm up and down, illustrating just how little effort it took to keep Jack hoisted over her head. "An' I hate it when people laugh at my name."

"Hoo-gay." Jack choked.

Johnny Betty's expression softened. Jack was sure she would have let him down then if a taser hadn't hit the superhuman girl square between the shoulder blades. Electricity being the friendly soul it was, Jack got to share the shocky fun.

The last thing he remembered was hitting the ground hard.

* * *

"This should be done with the skull of a high druid, the toe bones of a holy virgin and be performed under a full moon." Phooka said, still sulking.

"I care not for your silly sense of theatrics, elf. Just find Jack." Chase snarled.

"See, this is why no one respects the Old Ways. You had to wait a month to perform a spell properly, you respected the damn thing." The kelpie continued.

"I'm sure you could make it work with anything, Phooka." Matty said loyally.

Once the fairy had agreed to help, the petite blond had dropped right back into his role as adoring submissive. The mortal youth stretched up and placed a kiss on Phooka's cheek.

"You're the best, baby."

The kelpie sighed, still not ready to let go of snit, but preening under the praise.

"All right." The elf ventured out to the overgrown backyard. Holding up his tools, the kelpie closed his eyes.

"By the spirits above and the spirits below,  
By the spirits within and the spirits without,  
Earth and Air and Water and Fire,  
East and West and North and South.  
Around and about and all the spirits present in this place, I call upon your wisdom.

Well met by -"

The elf paused and glared up at the midday sun.

"_Broad daylight_." He snarled sarcastically.

Behind him, Chase Young cleared his throat meaningfully. Phooka heaved another sigh and lifted the container in his hands.

"Gathered spirits, lend your power to this"

Another long-suffering sigh.

"Cheerfully decorated cereal bowl."

"Hey, don't knock Betty Boop," Matty said with a grin.

"Fill this container with your essence, infuse these -"

Phooka inspected the contents of the cereal bowl.

"_Extremely_ tacky clip on earrings."

"My Mom's," Matty murmured to Chase.

"Lend your power to these objects! Give us knowledge beyond mortal sight!  
Find that which has been stolen!"

The kelpie threw down the tacky earrings onto the bare ground, then bent over them and studied them carefully.

"Michigan. Upper Peninsula. A little island off of . . . . Beaver Island? He's all right, but he's being held against his will." The kelpie reported.

A dark smile creased Chase's face.

"Excellent. Put some clothing on, Phooka. Your contribution is not at an end."

* * *

Jack regained consciousness slowly, as if he wasn't sure it was worth the trouble. Once awake, he still wasn't sure. His body still throbbed from the pain of electrocution. It added to the already excruciating pain in his broken finger until the albino youth could do little more than whimper.

"Shut up," A voice growled. "If I wanted t' listen t' something whine, I'd get a puppy."

Jack risked opening his eyes. He was in a small room, bare to the point of being called a cell, with two bunks along opposite walls. Johnny Betty was stretched out on the opposite bunk, her boots propped up on the footboard and her hands folded across her stomach. Her hat was gone.

"Where are we?" Jack asked.

"Back at Camp Brainwash. This is where they put the kids that physically rebel." JB paused, giving a pissed off rumble. "They lost my hat."

"Yeah, that's a shame. You sound like you've been here before." Jack said, taking inventory of the room. It didn't look like the door had a keypad on the inside.

"I put a youth volunteer in th' hospital aft'r they tried that 'sexual role-playing' bullshit." The dark haired girl stated calmly.

"'Sexual role-playing?'" Jack echoed uneasily. "What's that?"

"Oh, that's where they make ya wear these body stockin', then they pair you up boys n' girls and make ya act out havin' sex." JB sighed, scratching her nose.

"W-Whaaat?! That's like . . .molestation! Or sexual assault, or something!"

"I call it time t' fight."

"I can't take this! I'm very sensitive and I bruise easily and I'm engaged and my fiancee's very jealous!"

JB sighed heavily and rolled onto her side.

"Hey! You're like, super-powered or something! Why can't you bust us out of here?!" Jack demanded.

"An' go where? I scouted around when I was out; we're on an island an' that water's cold."

Jack fell silent for a moment. JB sighed again, resting against the thin mattress.

"Worse part is, I have t' stick around an' listen t' these assholes tell me to stop lustin' after girls when I like boys just fine."

"If you're straight, why'd you get sent here?" Jack asked, still thinking.

"'Cause I have standards." Johnny Betty stated. "I don' like th' boys I go t' school with 'cause they're all dicks. I ain't gonna let 'em try anything with me unless they treat me sweet and bein' nice t' a girl you're tryin' t' score with ain't cool. So I get labeled a lesbian fer havin' standards. If I went home, I'd just end up here again."

"How would you like a job?" Jack asked.

"A job?" JB looked over her shoulder. "What kind of a job?"

"Be my bodyguard. Get me out of here and I can get a hold of Chase. We'll head back to China and I'll spend like a week in his bed getting sexed into the next century and . . and. . .and you can even be in my wedding!"

JB gave him a look.

"And I'll pay you?" Jack offered.

A smile finally graced the dark-skinned girl's face.

"Now you're talkin'"

* * *

On the other side of the planet, Cecilia Spicer opened the door to her son's basement lab. She was still torn over the decision to send Jack off to that 'rehabilitation' camp. Jack was such a weird boy as it was; if he had managed to land a multimillionaire, who cared if it was a man? In fact, now that she had time to think the situation over, if she had known earlier that Jack swung that way, she would have taken the time to instruct him on the proper way to catch a rich man's eye.

Cecilia descended the steps casually, even though she was alone. If Jack's lover had gifted him with a ring worth four million dollars, what other little trinkets he had showered on the youth?

The woman stopped abruptly.

On the floor of Jack's lair . . .no, _carved_ into the floor of Jack's lair were the words:

YOU TOOK HIM FROM ME. I WILL NOT TOLERATE THIS. SEE YOU SOON.

Cecilia turned and fled back up the stairs.

"Jonathon!"


	4. Chapter 4

" . . . . . . an' then th' bloated land whale with th' really nice hair turned t' th' witch an' said: 'I love you man; you're my best friend. So I'm gonna let you have a piece of my prince.' an' she opened th' wardrobe she had kept the prince locked in. The witch took one last toke an' said: 'All right!' an' took off all her clothes. Th' prince took one look at her nasty, wrinkled ass an' summoned what strength he had left an' flung himself out th' window. He splattered all over th' wall of thorns at th' base of the tower, fertilizin' th' brambles with his blood an' bones, just like all th' other princes before him." 

"So th' witch an' her obese charge spread more rumors about th' beauty locked in th' tower an' th' 'magical herbs' which were really run of th' mill opium an' marijuana. An' they kept trappin', molestin' an' murderin' princes until all th' excess royalty in th' land was killed off an' the peasants became an autonomous collective. After maybe thirty years of happy homicide, they both died when somethin' heavy an' sharp an' medieval fell on their heads. An' everybody who wasn't worm food lived happily ever after. The End."

Jack lay on his bunk, curled into a tight ball. His hands were pressed to his face, but streams of mascara tainted tears leaked out between his fingers. Sharp, wheezing gasps shook his slender frame. After a few minutes, he managed to gasp out a strangled sentence.

"Th-That was the best . . .version of . . . . Ruh . . .Rapunzel . . .I've ever heard."

JB shrugged lightly.

"Storytellin's always been a talent o' mine."

The pair were interrupted by the click of the lock. Jack sat up, swinging his feet to the floor. Johnny Betty sat up, one elbow propped up on her knee.

The door opened and Reverend Dallas came through, followed by two muscle-bound helpers.

"All right, Jack! We've prepared another room for you." The preacher said, forcing another weird smile.

"No, I want to stay with JB. She's cool. And she tells the best bedtime stories."

"I'd rather bunk with Jack than that butch dyke you tried to stick me with last time." Johnny Betty growled. "An' ya'll owe me a hat!"

"You two . . . .you can't be roommates!" Steve cried.

"Why not?" JB and Jack asked in the same voice.

"Because! It would be coed!"

"So?" Jack prompted.

"You two might have sex."

"Ain't that th' whole point of this place?" Johnny Betty asked.

Jack snickered. The two helpers looked amused, but an angry blanche tinted the pastor's face.

"We don't want two minors having sex at Camp Purity! We - we just -"

"Want us to _want_ to have sex with each other?" Jack suggested.

"Well-"

"See, that would work, too, because living in close quarters with a girl would probably open my eyes to the appeal of the fairer sex." Jack looked at the teenage girl sitting on the opposite bunk. "Well, maybe. . . .I guess."

Before the pastor could reply, the albino youth threw himself flat on his mattress to avoid the pillow aimed at his head.

"Like I'd want t' take a roll in th' hay with a string bean like you!" JB howled. "I like my men with a li'l more meat on 'em!"

"'String bean'? Chase says I'm lovely and slender!"

"Johnny Betty, just saying you like men isn't going to convince me that you've been cured." Steve cut in.

If looks could kill, the preacher would have been chopped up and strewn about the room.

"It isn't? What do you have to do to get out of this dump?" Jack asked.

Brother Justin entered the room and hastily whispered a few sentences in the pastor's ear.

"Really? Oh, I see. Jack, you and Johnny Betty can 'hang out' for a bit longer. We'll probably have to move you to a different facility." Reverend Dallas said.

"What? Why?"

"Your parents called. Apparently, there was a threat at your home . . . Likely from your . . .your male lover."

Jack's face lit up like a Christmas tree.

"Chase! Chase is gonna come and get me!" He squealed.

The camp employees glowered at the fair young man and left the room.

* * *

"You retrieve him, Phooka. These blessed places give me a migraine." Chase growled, rubbing his temple.

Phooka squinted up at the sign over the gate at Camp Purity. The actual letters were enormous painted wooden things, raised up from the backboard of the sign. Around them were confused jumbles of decorations; carvings and strangely shaped stones and twisted bits of metal. It looked like someone had collages explained to them, but had never actually seen one.

"Won't it hurt Phooka, too?" Matty asked, hanging on his lover's arm.

"Don't worry, _annsachd_." The fairy said. "Chase has trouble with blessed places because he is inherently evil; he sold his soul to evil forces for power and eternal life. _I_, on the other hand, am simply a Pagan manifestation of the wide and varied ways to die as a result of water. A Christian protection would not be a problem for me."

The kelpie pressed a kiss to the blond youth's cheek and strode through the gate.

A moment later he was face down in the dirt path, choking and gasping.

"Phooka!" Matty cried, running to his side.

The fairy cried out sharply and changed shape.

The feminine youth whimpered in distress, backing up as a one hundred and eighty pound man morphed into a twelve hundred pound animal.

Phooka struggled to his feet in his horse form and galloped back out of the gate, wheeling around Chase.

"What happened?!" Matty wailed, chasing after him. "You said it wouldn't hurt him!"

Phooka slowed to a halt and lowered his head. To one well-versed in horsemanship, it looked as though he were straining to do something. Nothing happened. Phooka exchanged a startled look with Chase.

"He can't change shape." The warlord said.

"What?! He's a fairy!" Matty wailed, hugging Phooka tightly around the nose. "You said Christian protections wouldn't work on him!"

Chase turned his gaze back to the sign over the gate. As he studied the jumbled mass of detritus nailed around the letters, something jumped out at him.

"Christian protections don't work against him. But Pagan protections do." The ancient warlord pointed to the sign. "Someone nailed an iron horseshoe to the sign. With kelpies having such a strong bond with the equine shape, a horseshoe would have an extremely potent effect on him. He's stuck in that form."

"For - for how long?" Matty asked, blue eyes wide.

"Three days is the general time span."

Phooka snorted in irritation, his tail lashing like a cranky cat's.

"Three days?"

"Wretched, ignorant insects! When I've retrieved my Jack, I'll raze this entire compound to the ground!' Chase snarled. "Migraine or no, I'll -"

The warlord cut off sharply when he realized Matty was stomping through the gate, his whole demeanor radiating anger. The slight youth raised one fist and hammered on the front door.

Chase and Phooka exchanged another look.

"Open up, you narrow-minded asssholes! You broke my boyfriend!" The blonde yelled.

Phooka ducked his head again, this time a decidedly human gesture, and started after his lover. The kelpie hesitated at the gate, then cantered in a quick circle and jumped the fence instead.

Gritting his teeth, Chase followed the pair.

* * *

"Come along, Jack. We have another facility in Wisconsin we think you'll like better." Steve said as Brother Justin hauled Jack to his feet and hustled him towards the door.

"No! I don't want to leave! Chase is coming for me! JB! What part of 'bodyguard' did you not understand?!"

Johnny Betty remained stretched out on her bunk.

"Don' throw a hissy fit, Jack." The girl drawled. "It'll be all right."

As the albino youth spluttered protests, the camp employees dragged him out of the safe room and into the hallway.

The dark haired girl sighed quietly as the door was locked again and she was left alone.

JB counted to three hundred.

Then, she got up, carefully stretched, and ripped the door off of it's hinges.

Jack was bound to be outside near a mode of transportation by now. She might as well do her best at her new job.

* * *

Reverend Graham Christiansen wasn't what many would consider a bad man. He really tried to listen to the young people under his tutelage and did his absolute best to understand their problems. He disapproved of some of the strong arm tactics used at the camp. He thought that no one could be cured until they decided to be cured. He always told his young charges about his own experiences with homosexuality and how the camp's program had helped him.

He did his utmost to be a good Christian.

Which was why it really wasn't fair that he was the one to open the door to Matthias Conway.

"Oh! Good morning!" Reverend Christiansen said, opening up the main door. "How can I . . .?"

"Who the FUCK said you could put a horseshoe over the gate?!"

Graham rocked back from the force of the exclamation, his eyes going wide. He blinked in shock of the sight of an extremely large horse standing on the porch next to a beautiful Chinese man who was clutching his head in pain.

"I asked you a question, you syphilitic discharge!"

Graham's mouth dropped open in shock and he finally managed to focus on the speaker . . .screamer . . . .the person addressing him.

It opened a little wider as his eyes took in the visage of shining golden hair, beautiful fair skin and elfin blue eyes that blazed like cold fire.

Reverend Christiansen knew right then that his problems with homosexuality weren't over.

The gorgeous youth jabbed a finger back at the front gate.

"Nailing up a lucky horseshoe is a _Pagan_ ritual! This is a _Christian_ camp! If you just pick out any damn tradition you want, that's just sloppy! If there's one thing I hate it's sloppiness!"

Matty stalked forward as he yelled, forcing the minister to back away from him. The older man finally fetched up against a wide couch. Matthias stopped inches from the clergyman's face.

"It's bad enough that you . . . .you _hatemongers_ go around twisting these poor kids' heads by telling them that being gay is evil and twisted, but now you start hurting innocent fairies with your _ignorant_ approach to outdoor design!"

"F-Fairy? Are you gay?" Graham managed to blurt.

Matty's eyes narrowed sharply, taking in the sudden flush on the minister's cheeks and the heat in his hazel eyes.

"Why?" The blond asked in a low voice. "Do you want to fuck me?"

Graham whimpered.

"Matthias! Ask him where Jack is!" Chase ordered.

"Hhhmmmf." Matty growled. "There's an albino kid here; red eyes, red hair, likes eyeliner a bit too much; sound familiar? Tell us where he is."

"I can't do that! You shouldn't even be in here! Well, maybe you should be one of our kids, but-" Graham stammered.

"'One of your kids'? I'm not a kid. I'm nineteen years old. Taking me anywhere against my will constitutes kidnapping."

"You're nineteen?"

"That's right." Matthias's voice took on a warm, rich tone. "I'm _legal_. We could do anything we wanted together. Would you like that, Preacher Man?"

Graham swallowed heavily.

Matty gave the older man a wicked grin.

"So I don't do the threatening 'beat 'em up' thing very well. How about this: If you don't tell me where Jack Spicer is right now, I'm going to get down on my knees and take your pants off and suck your cock."

The preacher's face turned crimson.

"But I won't let you come in my mouth. I won't let you come at all. No, no, I'll have Chase here tie you up and then I'll suck you until you're right at the edge, right when you can feel it deep down in your prostate and then I'll _leave you like that_. You won't be able to finish up yourself; you'll just be stuck there with your cock in the air -"

Graham made a choking noise and did something he hadn't done since he was fourteen.

Matty blinked and looked down at the minister's groin.

"Holy sexual frustration, Batman." The blonde tossed a grin over his shoulder at the man and horse standing on the porch. "He just came! Just from me talking to him! I should be a phone sex operator!"

"Jack!" Chase snarled pointedly.

"Oh yeah." Matthias turned back to the minister. To his amazement, Reverend Christiansen was crying, both hands clasped over the wet stain in his pants.

"I can't - I can't - I've been so good . . ."

"See what happens when you deny what you are, Reverend?!" Matthias hissed in his ear. "It just builds up and builds up until you can't control it anymore and then it boils over like a pot and if you don't tell me where my friend is right this second, I'm going to start _touching_ you."

Graham moaned.

"How sensitive are your nipples, Father?" Matthias purred in a voice that would have been the downfall of saints.

"J-Jack Spicer was in the troubled ward, b-but they're moving him to Wisconsin! They just took him down to the boat dock!"

Chase growled and ran for the gate, more than ready to be away from this holy place and the pain it brought. Phooka started to follow him, but paused a few feet away from the porch, looking back through the open door.

Graham gasped as a hot, slender body suddenly pressed tight against his own. Blue eyes that glittered like the sins of angels were mere inches from his own.

"Take my advice, Father," Matty murmured in a voice that radiated lust. "Go out and find someone to fuck. Even if you have to pay for it. It really is as good as you've heard."

Matthias's wet pink tongue darted out for a teasing lick on the minister's earlobe, then he tore himself away and ran out the door.

Phooka turned his rump towards the porch and Matty launched himself off the edge, bracing both hands on the kelpie's rump to leapfrog forward onto the horse's back.

Phooka tore out of the gate, catching up to Chase almost instantly.

In the distance, the sound of an outboard motor started up.

* * *

"You can't do this! This is like, kidnapping and brainwashing and if I had my JackBots, you'd all be mincemeat!" Jack howled, struggling against Brother Justin's iron grip.

"Now Jack, this really is all for your own good. I know you don't agree now, but you're only seventeen; your parents still have the authority to say what's best for you." Reverend Dallas said soothingly. "I'll see you as far as the next boat dock, then you'll be taken to Camp Serenity."

"Actually," JB said, stepping onto the dock. "Me an' Jack are gonna meander on outta here. Thanks for gettin' the boat ready for us."

Jack whipped around to look at the pigtailed girl.

"It's about time!" He snapped.

Brother Justin shoved Jack forward into Reverend Dallas's arms, then turned back to the girl.

"How did you get out of your room?!" He snapped. "You shouldn't fight us like this, Johnny Betty. We're trying to help you."

"I need your kinda help like I need t' squat with mah spurs on!" JB declared.

Brother Justin went to grab the teenaged girl, but she deftly avoided the lunge and then punched the man so hard his jaw shattered.

Reverend Dallas shoved Jack in the speed boat unceremoniously and scrambled for the key. Johnny Betty kicked the screaming Brother Justin into the water and leapt into the bow of the boat just as Steve cranked the engine and sent the speedboat lunging out into the lake.

Jack, having had much experience with the super powered ass-kicking crowd, threw himself into the stern and curled up into a small ball with his hands over his head.

"W-why are you doing this?!" Reverend Dallas cried. "We're just trying to help you! Don't you want to be normal?!"

"Ain't no such thing as normal!" JB declared.

"You call this help?!" Jack squawked.

"But you're just confused-!"

"I'm tired a' listenin' t' this," JB growled, stalking forward.

The teenager grabbed the minister by the front of his shirt and heaved him off of the back of the boat. After watching him flounder in their wake, the dark skinned maid grabbed the steering wheel and headed out into open water.

"Well, dip me in chocolate an' throw me t' th' lesbians!" She cried. "I do believe we're free!"

Jack gave her a _look_.

"Dip you in . . . . and you like guys with meat on their bones? I know someone you have to meet."

* * *

Brother Justin floundered to the edge of the dock, trying to gasp for air around the excruciating pain in his jaw. He managed to grab hold of the end of the dock and hung there for a moment. Some instinct tickled the back of his mind and Brother Justin tilted his head back and looked up.

There was a horse standing on the dock. A big black horse with far too much mane watched him struggling dispassionately. As Brother Justin watched, the face of a beautiful Chinese man appeared over the endless fall of mane.

Chase perched comfortably on the kelpie's back, Matty riding behind him.

"Where is my Jack?" He asked with deceptive softness.

Brother Justin could only answer with a noise of pain.

"I don't think he can answer, Phooka. Therefore, he is of no further use to me. But I don't believe you've eaten today, have you?"

* * *

Reverend Dallas floundered in the middle of the lake. How could Johnny Betty have thrown him in so effortlessly? It was impossible; such things didn't happen. Only God could bestow such powers on a mere mortal.

God . . .or Satan.

Steve coughed up water as he tried to freeze in shock.

A horse was running over the surface of the water towards him. He knew it was on the surface of the water, because he actually dipped below the surface and he could see the horse's hoof prints on the surface.

That was impossible; it was utterly and completely impossible.

The rider of the impossible beast seemed to take notice of him and the horse wheeled towards him.

"Where is my Jack?" The man asked.

"Our - our father, who art in heaven -" Steve began.

The horse was standing over him, blood dripping from the creature's mouth. The reverend knew instinctively it wasn't the horse's blood.

The rider flinched sharply at the recitation of the Lord's Prayer.

"Phooka, he's giving me a headache!" Chase snarled.

The last thing Steve Dallas ever saw was a plate sized hoof descending towards his face.

* * *

"You do realize you don't paid if I die?!" Jack snarled at the dark skinned girl driving the speedboat. "Where the hell are we? It looks like we're in the middle of the ocean!"

JB gave him a bored look.

"I haven't even come close to killin' you an' we lost th' group from Camp Brainwash, so-" Johnny Betty cut off sharply as she looked back over her shoulder. "Uh . . . these friends of yorn?"

Jack hazarded a peek over the engine block. Instantly he was on his feet, jumping and waving excitedly.

"It'sChaseit'sChaseit'sChaseit'sChaseit'sChase!" The tech wizard cried.

It was Chase, galloping towards the boat astride a magnificent black horse. The horse confused Jack for a moment, but several clues had him putting together the answer quickly. The horse's impossible beauty, green eyes, and blood spattered muzzle hinted that it wasn't an ordinary horse. The fact that it was galloping over the surface of an inland sea was a bit of a clue as well.

"Oh, he's riding Phooka! I never thought I'd be happy to say those words!" Jack cried. "I'm over here, Chase-baby!"

Phooka drew up alongside the boat, prancing showily. Matty was riding behind Chase, but honestly, Phooka could have been carrying a three piece orchestra playing the aria from the opera _'The Queen of the Night'_ and Jack wouldn't have noticed.

Not when Chase was here.

Chase, his Chase, his dark god, his wicked prince, the black sun in his evil sky. Jack lunged forward, arms outstretched, only to be knocked back into the boat as Chase met him halfway.

"Chase! Chase!" Jack whimpered, pressing hot biting kisses across the ancient warrior's lips and chin.

"Jack, my Jack! Jack-Pet," Chase growled, returning nip for nip and kiss for kiss.

The two men twined hard around each other, as if struggling to literally become one. Somewhere in the midst of the passionate grapple, their mouths met and instantly melted into each other. For a few minutes, there was no sound but the lap of water against the hull and the smack of lips and tongue. Chase finally tore his mouth from Jack's to gasp for air.

"You were stolen from me," he growled. "But I have come to claim you."

"Nobody could ever take me away from you, Chase!" Jack said fervently. "Not in any way that matters."

The endearments were interrupted by an equine groan of disgust. Chase threw the kelpie a nasty look. Matty swatted the horse's shoulder lightly.

"You be quiet," the blond chided. "It's so sweet!"

Phooka heaved a long-suffering sigh and looked away as Chase and Jack shared another deep, soul-searing kiss.

"Are my parents still alive?" Jack asked when they parted. He didn't seem particularly concerned over the question, just sort of mildly curious.

"Are they the ones responsible for this?" Chase asked. "They live. For the moment."

Distracted by dark thoughts of future murder, Chase stroked on hand down to meet Jack's and squeezed, not noticing the metal contraption on his love's finger. Jack yelped in pain. Chase instantly released his hand, looking down at the cast in shock.

"They tried to take my ring off." Jack said simply. "They broke my finger trying to get it off."

Chase snarled with hatred, wishing those responsible for the action were present so he could kill them again.

"And that idiot preacher prayed over the binding as it was set," Chase surmised, studying the cast. "Thus blocking the protective spell."

The dragon lord picked gingerly at the tape, then looked up in surprise as a wickedly sharp pocket knife was offered. The dragon lord blinked at the teenage girl holding it like he'd never seen her before, and in his inner dragon's rush to reclaim it's mate, he really hadn't noticed her.

"If th' cast is bad, cut it off." she said simply.

"Oh, this is Johnny Betty. She's kind of like my bodyguard now." Jack said.

"How do?" JB said politely.

Chase said nothing, merely took the knife offered and sliced off the bandage. The ancient warrior trembled was he saw the black and blue bruises, misshapen swelling and torn skin that marred Jack's long, artistic finger.

"We did not kill them slowly enough, Phooka." Chase announced.

Phooka merely licked his bloodstained lips and chewed. The dragon lord folded both of his hands over the injured digit and pressed them gently to his cheek.

"My beloved," he whispered as black light began to glow between his hands.

Jack hissed gingerly as heat spread through the finger, bordering on the pain threshold until Chase abruptly released him. Jack flexed his now perfect hand, grinning.

"Chase. I missed you," Jack murmured. "I missed you a lot."

Chase raised one elegant eyebrow at the note of hunger in his lover's voice. Without a word, he crushed the youth to his chest, kissing passionately and deeply. Jack melted into the kiss, pawing at Chase's chest and shoulders as if he wanted to climb the warlord. Instead, he found himself bent backwards over the engine cover and pawed at even more passionately.

The other three remained quiet until Jack reached down and started tugging Chase's sash loose. Johnny Betty let out a tiny, deliberate cough.

Chase raised one hand and snapped his fingers.

Chase, Jack, Phooka, Matty, Johnny Betty, the speedboat, and a significant amount of lake water materialized in the main hall of Chase's lair. Phooka staggered at the sudden change of footing, causing Matty to fall off of his back. JB pitched over the side of the boat as it rocked sharply, settling to one side on the flat surface. The thud of her hitting the ground, followed by a string of southern swears rang off of the rock walls.

The only ones not severely unsettled were Chase and Jack.

They looked deep into each other's eyes, shared a sly, sexy smile. Chase raised his hand once again and snapped his fingers, teleporting only himself and Jack away.

"They'll be in the bedroom." Matty declared, picking himself up. "We won't see them again today."


	5. Chapter 5

Chase Young looked down at his beloved Jack sprawled among the pale pink sheets, slumbering contentedly. The albino youth was exactly where he belonged; happy and sated and _safe_ in his lover's bed. Chase stroked a few vibrant red hairs away from Jack's temple and kissed the moonstone skin there.

Jack was _his_.

**His** lover, **his** minion, **his** consort and soon to be **his** husband. Chase owned Jack body and soul.

Now it was a good time to deal with the fools who had dared question that fact.

Chase Young considered his options for a moment. An idea starting to form in his head. A wicked, deadly smirk tugged at one corner of his mouth. Gently, so as not to disturb Jack, the ancient warlord rolled out of bed and strode to one of the many magical wardrobes that littered his palace. One wouldn't find any portals into magical worlds, but they would find any item of clothing ever conceived in the minds of men or mortals.

Chase Young imagined what he wished to wear and began to dress.

* * *

Johnny Betty paused in the hall way as the lord of the manor approached her. Two tigers flanked Chase. The teenaged girl watched them warily. After one had taken a pot-shot at Matty, only to be nearly stomped to death by Phooka, she treated them with a healthy sense of mistrust. However, JB was a heterosexual female and she felt her eyes dragged back to Chase.

For some reason, the evil warlord was dressed in the manner of English-style riding; skin tight grey breaches, sleeveless white high-collared shirt, and gleaming knee high Jodhpur boots. Parts of Johnny Betty's anatomy, most of them in her lower half, did flip flops at the sight of all that masculine beauty displayed so shamelessly.

"You. Half-blood." Chase growled.

Half-formed fantasies died on the wing. In two words, Chase illustrated just how little he thought of the dark haired girl in front of him. It was stupid to drool anyway; Chase had Jack and even if he didn't, Johnny Betty certainly didn't have anything he wanted.

"You are Jack's bodyguard. He sleeps in my bedchamber. Make sure no one attempts to steal him again."

"I'm not Native American," JB said petulantly.

One black eyebrow arched elegantly.

"What?"

"You called me half-blood. I'm not Native American."

Chase gave her a long, deliberate look. It managed to convey that the dragon lord thought the termagant in front of him was so incredibly stupid she had hurtled so far away from the point she couldn't even wave hello to it. Much to her chagrin, Johnny Betty felt a humiliated blush tint her cheeks.

"In_deed_." He murmured. "Go guard my Jack-Pet."

* * *

Phooka was enjoying a bath in one of the decorative pools on the main floor of Chase's stronghold. Since Matthias's near miss with an over-eager leopard, the fairy didn't let his young master out of his sight. Still stuck in his horse form, the fairy stood belly deep in the water. Matty, fully clothed, but still sopping wet was waist deep in the pool as well. The fair haired youth had found an antique ewer that could have paid for the purchase of a small country and was scooping up water and pouring it over the fairy's sleek sides.

". . . and the water should make you feel better; you should be able to get back to your regular shape-shifting self by tonight. And when you do, baby, I'm going to do the most obscene things to you . . ." The youth was murmuring.

"I had hoped to borrow Phooka while he was still a horse," Chase announced, appearing at the edge of the pool.

Matty gasped and huddled against Phooka's sleek black flank. The kelpie in horse form eyed Chase, one ear back and the other forward to indicate his skepticism.

"Oh, I think the outing would do you good, Phooka. There could be a very good meal in it for you."

Both ears flicked backwards for a moment, then Phooka bent his head around and nuzzled Matty's arm.

"No, Matthias won't be joining us." Chase said.

Phooka gave him a look of disbelief, then pinned his ears flat and lowered his head aggressively at the two tigers flanking Chase.

"The attempted attack earlier was a mistake. In my eagerness to be alone with Jack, I neglected to tell my warriors you were allowed free reign of the palace. It will not happen again."

Phooka swished his tail stubbornly, looking decidedly unconvinced.

The dragon lord sighed heavily.

"I've left the half-blood to guard Jack; Matty can join him and be safe. Does that meet with your approval?"

Phooka lifted his head and flicked his ears forward, signaling his agreement.

"Excellent," Chase purred.

* * *

The Land of Nowhere was not heavily populated. What animals were native to the region tended to be strangely mutated from the magical fallout that emanated from Chase's lair and avoided contact with the castle. Thus, there was no one to be surprised when the lord of the land emerged from his stronghold astride a fine black horse.

It was the kind of stallion most equestrians would gladly sell their soul for, and throw in the souls of their wife and children to boot. Perfectly formed muscles gleamed under satiny black hair. A silky black mane cascaded down past the slope of the horse's shoulder, imbued with a slight natural curl. The horse's tail actually dragged the ground slightly.

Or at least it would have had the beast been walking.

The fine steed lunged forward in short hops, rearing slightly with every stride. Even Chase Young, with all of his supernatural grace and skill, wrestled with the reins, struggling to keep the horse under control.

Phooka's body language said nothing about what was going on in his mind, but Chase could practically feel the thoughts emanating from the fairy's head.

_Just because I said you could ride me doesn't mean I'll make it easy for you. _

Chase couldn't resist the straight line.

"You reacted with much that same brio and panache the last time I rode you, Phooka. Though, if memory serves, you weren't a horse then."

Slightly foxy ears disappeared into the silken mane as Phooka flattened his ears in pure hatred. With the scream of an enraged stallion, the fairy charged to the end of the ledge in front of Chase's lair and leapt into the void.

* * *

Security had been tightened at the Spicer mansion. No less than four in men in dark suits with absolutely no sense of humor were stationed around the grounds. They watched with surprise as a beautiful Chinese man came cantering up the long drive on an equally beautiful black horse.

The young man rode with effortless grace; his movements so in tune with his mount's that it was difficult to tell where one left off and the other began. The horse cantered with just enough lift and bounce to his steps to accentuate the action, but not so much that it looked forced.

The image of the two of them cantering by would make a top level dressage judge fall to his knees and weep because he'd never, ever see anything so beautiful again.

The picture of perfect union between man and horse was only ruined by the black stallion's constant champing of the bit, resulting in globs of foamy slobber that dripped from the animal's mouth and splattered onto the well-kept grass.

The rider ignored this, bringing the animal to a halt in front of the clutch of guards.

"I am here to see the Spicers." He told the men.

"Do you have an appointment?" One man asked. "The Spicers are only receiving visitors by appointment at the moment."

"They will see me," Chase said. "Tell them Chase Young is here to discuss their son."

The man stepped backwards and spoke into a small bud on the wire of the earpiece snugged into his ear.

"Is that horse okay?" Another guard asked.

Phooka was gagging loudly, trying to force the bit out of his mouth with his tongue.

"He's fine," Chase growled, jerking sharply on the reins. "He is simply unaccustomed to the wearing a bit."

The first speaker returned, having received further instruction from inside through his earpiece.

"Sir? The Spicers will see you. Please follow me."

Chase dismounted smoothly and handed the reins to the guard that had asked after Phooka's health.

"Don't eat too much." He instructed the fairy.

The guard stroked the horse's neck gently.

"What a beautiful animal." He murmured.

Behind them, Chase Young was escorted into the Spicer estate.

* * *

"I told you we shouldn't have sent him to that camp." Cecilia said, pouring herself a drink.

"No you didn't! You said if we were going to do something, we should do it right away!" Jonathon snapped.

The couple both opened their mouths to argue, but stopped abruptly when there was a rap on the door.

Jonathon quickly went to sit behind the gigantic mahogany desk that dominated the room. Cecilia stood by his side, the very picture of the supportive wife.

"Enter!" Jonathon called.

The door opened and his son's lover entered the room, escorted by a single guard. Mr. Spicer caught a quickly stifled gasp from his wife. For a split second, he felt like gasping himself.

Chase Young was beautiful.

The pictures on Jack's desk hadn't done him the slightest bit of justice. Chase's face was smooth and flawless and desperately, wickedly beautiful, as if it had been carved by a horny angel. His body was equally perfect, rippling with subtle control to flex and pull those perfect muscles. The tight riding habit he wore only clung to every curve or plane in a way that was practically _obscene_. Even more than his looks were an aura of wicked sexuality that seemed to surround Chase and fill the room with his presence.

Chase Young could commit sexual harassment by sitting quietly in the next room.

"Forgive my disheveled appearance," Chase purred, gesturing to his flawless riding habit. "My horse was being most fresh today."

"Ah . . . your horse?" Mr. Spicer stammered.

"Yes. I was out for a ride and thought it an excellent time to drop by and discuss my relationship with Jack."

"Jack's missing," Cecilia said, finally having remembered how to form words. "He was kidnapped from a . . . . youth camp in the States."

Chase deliberately turned his attention to Jack's mother.

"I'm afraid you are mistaken, Madam," the warlord said coldly. "Jack isn't missing. He's at home."

Cecilia Spicer suddenly felt as if someone had poured ice water down her spine, but she couldn't exactly say why.

"Jack isn't here!" Jonathon snorted.

"No." Again, Chase's tone was extremely deliberate. "He's at home. He assured me a few hours ago in between bouts of earth-shaking, mind shattering sex that he was exactly where he belonged: in my - _our_ home, in _our _bed. And that is precisely where I mean to keep him."

"Whu- _you_ took him from the camp! They said two of the counselors were killed! And one of the other kids is still missing!" Cecilia gasped. "You left that threat on the floor, too!"

Jonathon slowly put his hands flat to the green ink blotter on the desktop. Then, just as slowly, his fingers curled inwards. His nails tore ragged gouges through the thick green sponge-like material.

"Who the _hell_," he growled furiously, "do you think you are? Where do you get off thinking you can come into this house, corrupt _my_ son, and threaten us because _we_ saw fit to fix the mess _you_ turned him into?!"

Chase raised one elegant eyebrow, smirking.

"I," He said calmly. "Am Chase Young. And your son is brilliant and beautiful and has not a single flaw, so do not dare speak to me of his 'corruption'. I could have my choice of any person in the world, but I have chosen Jack Spicer. He will be forever adored and protected in my keeping. I allowed him to return to this house to retrieve a few of his things and he was drugged, injured, and handed over to a group of religious fanatics who nearly shattered his finger trying to remove his engagement ring." The warlord's eyes narrowed dangerously.

"And in case it has eluded your feeble grasp, I do as I see fit. If my Jack would be better off without his meddlesome parents who seek to harm him and steal from him, then your lives will be over."

Cecilia went very pale. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she wondered how this Chase Young had known about her casual search for valuables in Jack's laboratory.

Jonathon surged to his feet and slammed his fists down on his desk. "All your talk of 'forever' -- bah! You're a filthy pervert, preying on young men who are just old enough to be functional but too young to know to be afraid of you! You're going to use him up and then throw him aside and leave _us_ waiting here to say 'We Told You So'! I'm not having it!"

Reaching out, he picked up the receiver of the cordless phone on his desk.

Cecilia gasped and clung to his arm. "Jonathon! What are you doing?"

"I'm calling in the police! They'll keep this piece of trash detained while they go find our son and get him back where he belongs! Just because those _shepherds_ failed to keep Jack under control doesn't mean he's a lost cause! Of course they couldn't keep him out of trouble! He's a Spicer! He isn't a _sheep!_ He's--"

The phone unit on the desk abruptly burst into flames and melted.

The receiver in Jonathon's hand followed a moment later.

Both Spicers leapt back in alarm, staring in shock.

The smugness in Chase's grin was almost palatable.

"I did not believe you truly understood the situation." He chuckled. Abruptly, the shadows in the room deepened and lengthened, practically swallowing the artificial light. They appeared to cluster and dance around Chase Young, his eyes glowing an evil yellow.

"I've no idea where Jack got his instinct for the supernatural with parents like you. You couldn't _be_ more mundane. Jack would have spotted me for what I was the instant I walked through the door. Perhaps even sooner. If I were the only one affected by this, the two of you would already be dead. But I love my Jack-Pet and I know he does love you, so I'm giving you one last chance to live. If you choose to throw it away . . . . My Jack is very pragmatic about these things."

Jonathan gaped in horror at the ruined slag of plastic and metal on his desk, and then at the man still seated in the chair opposite him.

"What are you?" he whispered, unable to speak louder. It was an instinctive reaction: Never speak up when there are monsters around. It'll make them easier to find you and eat you.

Cecilia clung to her husband, too terrified to speak.

Chase grinned, showing off his fangs.

"I am many things. I am a warrior, a sorcerer, a dragon, a monster, a genius of wide renown and soon I'll be your son-in-law. If you respect Jack's choice to be with me, his ability to choose for himself, and the seriousness of our relationship, it's possible you might live to see the day we are joined in matrimony. If you continue to think of him as 'corrupted' or 'a mess'. . . ."

Chase's human formed bulged obscenely, then tore away like a cheap Halloween costume, revealing his dragon form, clothed only in shadow and whispers.

"The authorities will never find enough of you to consider you anything more than missing."

Jonathan's knees gave out. He wondered if he should consider himself lucky or unlucky that his _heart_ didn't give out.

As he collapsed into his chair, staring in numb trauma at the beast speaking to him, his wife collapsed to the floor in a faint.

"My... my son..." he croaked through cotton-dry lips and tongue."He... does he...?"

"Know?" the dragon-demon purred. "Oh, yes. He does know. In fact, _this_ form is as pleasing to him as the other -- both aesthetically _and_ physically." The dragon laughed. "Oh, the look on your face! Yes, Jonathan Spicer, I _did_ mean sexually. Jack _loves_ to be rutted by me when I wear this form."

Helplessly, Jonathan bent forward as he puked all over his expensive trousers, office chair, and marble floor.

Chase laughed again, thoroughly delighted.

"How did Jack ever spring from anything as spineless and stupid as you? Are you certain he's your son at all?"

The double doors to the office swung open and the black horse paced into the room, blood dripping from his muzzle.

Half way across the room his form shifted twisted, and there was a handsome black haired man in the room.

"How did you find the bodyguards?" Chase asked.

"Too lean. A nice marbling of fat really adds to the flavor, y'know? Oh, the Spicers are still alive." Phooka stated this as casually as someone would observe that it was raining outside.

Jonathan lunged backwards from the double-horror in the room, and only succeeded in sending his chair toppling backward, with himself spilling out of it to land on his unconscious wife.

He heard the dark, chilling laughter of bullies and realized, to his horror, that he was about to cry.

"So, Mr. Spicer . . .have we learned our lesson about treating our son like an adult and not like a badly behaved horse that needs to be sent away for training?" Chase asked, lifting his head slightly to peer as the quivering pile of humanity that was the Spicers.

The dragon-demon paced closer, glowering down at the shaking man.

"Jack will live with me now. He will remain at my side, in my home. If he chooses to return here, which I doubt he will, it will only be to visit you and he will be accompanied by his bodyguard. If any word reaches my ears about any more shameful behavior on your part, I will make it very, very clear how disappointed I am."

Abruptly, the dragon form flashed like a strobe light and the handsome, sexy human form of Chase Young was back.

"Do you understand the situation now?"

Some small remnant of Jonathan Spicer's pride reared up and prepared to spit acid in the beast's face.

"Y-Yes," he quavered his tone forlorn and despairing as that small remnant died before it could complete its self-imposed mission.

A cold, mocking smile. "Excellent. I'm glad we've had this little chat. Do be certain to impress upon your wife the seriousness of the situation? If nothing else, you may tell her that not only am I the wealthiest man on the planet... but I can very easily see to it that she spends the rest of her life a penniless beggar woman; so destitute that not even a homeless shelter will take her in."

A tiny, tiny fraction of Jonathon's sentient thoughts admired Chase Young's ability to know precisely where to hit where it would hurt the most.

"Fine," he said quietly. "I'll tell her. Just... go. _Please_."

A mean grin twisted Chase's features.

"Very well, _Dad_. I will take my leave of you now. You'll receive an invitation to the wedding, but please don't assume attendance is compulsory."

The ancient warlord turned to look at Phooka.

"Don't even think about it, Mr. 'I don't know what reins are for.' My jaw's going to be sore for hours after you were yanking on me like that. You can teleport your happy ass home."

Too delighted with the terror he had wrought on Jack's parents, Chase could do little more than laugh. He did just that, Phooka tagging along on the magical currents.

A wide grin on his face, Chase materialized in his own bedroom. Phooka slipped into reality beside him a heartbeat later. The dragon lord turned to his bed, expecting to treat his eyes with the beautiful sight of Jack sleeping peacefully.

Instead, he saw Jack and Matty twined together in the same bed he and Jack slept in.

Chase's golden eyes went wide.

"Oh shit," Jack muttered. "This isn't what it looks like."

The mountain keep shook with the long drawn out roar of rage and pain.


End file.
